Investigating Socks
by babygeek310
Summary: Life in Atlantis isn't all guns and fighting. Sometimes it's about socks. Bit of crack fic really.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If you know it, it's not mine.

I just want to give a massive thanks to GeneralSamCarter for being an amazing beta reader!

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**Investigating Socks**

Chapter 1

"What are those?" asked Ronon, his question taking John by surprise. He was pointing at John's socks.

"They're socks," John replied, clearly confused. Surely Ronon knew what socks were, he'd been in Atlantis for what? Four year? He had seen them take their socks off before for certain. Heck, even before coming to Atlantis Ronon had lived in a society advanced enough to have _guns_. They must have invented socks at some point in time.

"What are they for?" Ronon's face was deadpan.

"Well…erm...protecting your feet I guess." Was Ronon joking? If he was,the guy sure had a good poker face.

"That's what boots are for." Ronon kicked off his own boots and sure enough, he wasn't wearing any socks.

John took off his tac vest as a stalling tactic while he thought up an answer. "Boots rub sometimes. Socks stop you getting blisters." he started rummaging around in his locker, looking for a clean shirt.

"What's wrong with a blister?" Ronon, unbelievably, still sounded deadly serious. John blinked; did Ronon actually _like_ blisters or something?

"They hurt!"

"No they don't," Ronon said, smirking.

"No…no they don't," John pouted; Ronon was so damn masculine.

"So what are they for?" persisted Ronon.

"What?"

"Socks. What are socks for?"

John pulled out a shirt from his locker, took off his sweaty one and quickly changed before giving Ronon a response. "To keep your feet warm."

"That planet was hot." Ronon did have a point.

"Socks are for cold planets," John said, hoping Ronon would drop the subject. He didn't.

"So…why'd you wear them to a hot planet?"

"Because I like them!" John felt exasperated.

"Why?"

"Because they're good," John had run out of logical responses. Debating the need for socks was harder than he had thought it would be.

"At what?"

"Investigating!" John said the first thing that came to mind. He was completely out of ideas and explanations.

"Oh...can I have some?"

"What?" John was really struggling to keep up with this conversation.

"Some socks, so I can investigate,"

"Er, sure. Whatever," John chucked a pair of clean socks out of his locker to Ronon who caught them with a smile. Glad to have finally ended the strange debate, John sighed and left the room. A few moments later Teyla entered, thinking the locker room was empty so she could use it. A moment later, however, she noticed Ronon and smiled at him as he waved his socks at her.

"Ronon, why are you holding socks?" This was obviously the right question to ask as Ronon's face broke into a huge grin.

"Sheppard gave them to me," he said, as though it explained everything.

"How…thoughtful," Teyla raised an eyebrow.

"I told him I didn't know what they were. I'm going investigating. Bye."

"Why…?"

"Socks," said Ronon vaguely.

Teyla chuckled, shaking her head slightly. Boys are weird.


	2. Chapter 2

Once again thankyou to my amazing beta reader GeneralSamCarter for making this fic sound normal. Also thank you for your reviews!

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Chapter 2

Ronon crept into the room, his eyes darting around making sure no one could see him. No one had; no one was even aware he was in the room. Ronon allowed himself a smirk, his gun was in his hands, the familiar weight somehow comforting as he darted over to the door.

For a moment he considered kicking it open, but that would attract far too much attention. Instead he opened the door, watching as it swung open after a soft click. Ronon took a few fast paces into the room and slid across the freshly waxed floor in John's socks.

He had successfully infiltrated the kitchens without anyone in the mess hall seeing him.

Ronon opened the refrigerator and looked inside. There in the middle of the first shelf was a large mixing bowl filled with a thick gloop. Ronon prodded it with his gun, the mixture did nothing back. There was a cloth on the side which Ronon used to clean the end of his gun. His sniffed the cloth; it smelled familiar but Ronon couldn't quite place the scent. He discarded the cloth and gave the strange mixture another experimental poke, this time with his index finger.

He lifted the finger now covered in the oddly textured concoction to his lips and licked the tip. Porridge. Ronon liked the rest of his finger clean and, after a quick glance around to see if anyone else was in the room, shoved his hand in the bowl. He had learnt from John the there were things on earth called "pie eating contests". Surely if they had those they must have other types of eating contests as well, and if there was such thing as a 'porridge eating contest', Ronon knew he could win hands down.

He finished off the gigantic bowl in a matter of seconds and washed his hands. Now that the mystery of the gloopy stuff in the mixing bowl had been solved, Ronon needed something else to investigate and he set off to do just that.

On his way out of the kitchen Ronon bumped into John.

"What cha doing in there?" John asked, trying to look over Ronon's shoulder. Ronon looked around shiftily, as though making sure no one was watching.

"Investigating," he said his voice low. John looked blankly back at him.

"You're investigating the kitchen?" John's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. What was going on with Ronon today?

"I'm wearing…." Ronon paused for dramatic effect, "_t__he __socks."_

"Your wear….oh…right." John remembered his earlier conversation and mentally slapped himself on the head.

Ronon, afraid he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face anymore, quickly left the mess and went to his quarters. There on the floor next to his bed were his battered leather sandals.

Normally Ronon wore the standard issue military boots, they were all big bulky and cool looking, but he still hung on to his old sandals. Of course Sateda had hadsocks and regular shoes but Ronon had his own style; his own sockless style.

Ronon put on his sandals and smiled to himself. He'd solved a mystery with the help of John's socks, now it was time to see if he could solve one without them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Ronon, Hi!" exclaimed Zelenka, shocked to see Ronon in the lab. Ronon gave him a toothy grin.

"What you working on?" he asked gruffly, plonking down on the table top. Perhaps there was something to discover in here, after all a lab was a place for discovery.

"Well Rodney started working on an equation to…" and with that Ronon stopped listening.

Ronon eyed the stapler that was next to him on the desk. It was a different colour to all the other staplers Ronon had ever seen. Atlantis staplers were red, except for one. Colonel Carter had a green stapler that she brought with her.

The stapler on Zelenka's desk was green.

Ronon wondered briefly when he had started noticing the colour of peoples' stationary but quickly shrugged off the thought. He had to concentrate. Ronon slyly pocketed the stapler, made his excuses and left the lab.

He deposited the stapler back on Sam's desk, who gave him a pleasant albeit confused smile.

"Thank you Ronon…err…where did you find it?" Sam asked, feeling as though she should try to make polite conversation with the Satedan.

"I can't reveal my sources," Ronon crept shiftily out of the room. Sam made a mental note to stop letting John be Ronon's sole source of information on earth culture.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

By the end of the day Ronon's detective skills had given him the answers he had sought. He had solved another mystery.

Zelenka was a stationary thief. Since the Atlantis project had begun stationary had been going missing all over the city. It started small at first, a paperclip, an ink cartridge but then it got bigger. Soon Zelenka was stealing pencils and rulers; he was getting out of control.

It was time for the confrontation.

"I know it's you," Ronon glared at Zelenka, his hands on the table in front of him. Zelenka twitched.

"Ronon?"

"You stole the stapler," Ronon put on his best fierce caveman face. Zelenka looked to the door for help and thankfully found some. John was at the door.

"Hey what's going on guys?" John smiled, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"Zelenka stole the stapler."

"Ok, give him back his stapler," John looked to Zelenka pleadingly, hoping to appeal to the saner party but he was having no luck from that corner. Zelenka had a vicious expression to rival Ronon's and he was clutching the green stapler to his breast in a way that reminded John of Gollum.

John took two small steps backwards, making sure his route to the door was clear so that he could escape if need be. He watched as Ronon's expression got fiercer and Zelenka began to speak very quickly in Czech.

Suddenly Ronon's expression changed and John prepared to duck but the action was unnecessary. Ronon's face broke into a goofy grin and he started to laugh a huge belly laugh, the kind you rarely heard on Atlantis between one crisis and the next.

"I can't keep this up any longer. I know what socks are. Didn't help me much with the investigating though"

When the gales subsided and Ronon pulled out a pair of sweaty, smelly socks from his back pocket – John's socks.

He pressed them into John's hands and slapped his back as he ambled out of the lab and off in the direction of the mess.

Looking down at the socks in his hands John pulled a face, Ronon sure did sweat, a lot. John thought about putting them in for laundry but decided that they weren't salvageable and threw them into the bin next to Rodney's desk.

Rodney could suffer the stench of the socks.

As John left the room her saw Zelenka in his peripheral vision put the green stapler back down on the desk and give it an affectionate pat.

John smiled. So this was happened when Atlantis wasn't in peril, everyone went a bit mad.

**The End**


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